


Ars Moriendi

by Eaven



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, lots of coffee and late night calls, the love of your life just out of reach most of the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eaven/pseuds/Eaven
Summary: A summary of moments that define your life and his death.





	1. September 2066

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of short stories.

It had to happen. Eventually.

The call comes in the middle of the night. It‘s unexpected and exciting and you feel your heart race in the cage of your chest. Nobody but Gabriel calls that late.

Your phone rests on the nightstand, always in reach. Even after all this years, you have your song as ringtone. Even after all this years, you still get nostalgic and sappy every time it plays. You can almost feel the way he rested his hands on your hips, firm muscles underneath your fingers and the faintest hint of his cologne in the air. Most of all you remember his smile.

Eagerly picking up the phone, you accept the call without even looking at the screen. Expecting your soulmate on the other side of the phone, your heartbeat stops for an excruciating long second when it‘s not his heavy, raspy voice but the dominant accent of Ana Amari.

„I‘m sorry to wake you“, she apologizes.  
You can‘t even properly hear her, the blood in your ears is too loud, the cold, that suddenly holds you hostage, too frightening.  
The whisper that leaves your lips is barely audible, even for yourself.

„What happened?“

 _I‘m careful. Always. For you. For us._  
The trees outside rustle in the wind and shadows move around you like dark translucent dancing ghosts. Even when he‘s gone, his presence lingers in this house.  
He‘s a tidy person but you keep his clothes spread around the house and every time he comes home, he wonders how his clothes ended up in the weirdest places. You sleep with his T-Shirt on your pillow. 

Now you clutch it in one hand, pressed against your face. His smell fades after months of absence. Ana‘s voice brings you back to the presence, the other half of the bed is cold and on the other end of the phone is not the man you love.

Most missions are successful - until one isn‘t. Today was the mission that went totally wrong.  
You know Ana isn‘t allowed to call you, isn‘t allowed to even mention anything regarding Overwatch and whatever mission he is on. But Ana lost too many loved ones and she will not sit idle while a friend might suffer the same fate.  
Your world comes to a painful halt while she explains in hushed, quick words what happened.

You still sit on the edge of your bed with your phone in one hand and his shirt loosely in the other hand, when Jesse silently unlocks the front door. Only the jingles of his spurs faintly echo through your dark house. He‘s tired and hurt but his gentle hand on your shoulder emits a comforting warmth. 

He takes his time to kneel in front of you, taking the phone from your limp fingers and reassuring you with gentle words as if you are a deer in headlights.

The cold holding you doesn‘t leave but he gives you the strength to turn and bury your face into his shoulder. He winces but stays and carefully wraps his arms around you. You can smell the gunpowder clinging to his clothes.

*

The ride to the HQ is a quiet one.

There are no lights in the windows when you both arrive.  
You hold your shaking hands folded in your lap, when Jesse reaches out and rubs his hand over the back of your hand. He should not be the one who has to comfort you. Most likely he was right there when it happened.

„I‘m-“, the words die before he really started talking. You can only look at him, sad eyes looking back at you. 

„He was all right when I left. I‘m... I‘m sure he‘s going to be fine“

Jesse‘s words are appreciated but futile.  
You nod and get out of the car. Your body and mind feel numb.

The enormous foyer with gigantic screens and perfectly clean tiles soon enough gives way to an endless maze of corridors and stairs. You‘re close to fling open every door you pass but Jesse takes your sweaty hand in his and leads you further into the complex of the building.  
His hand is sweaty too.

Multiple floors and twice as many corridors later, you turn another corner and see Genji sitting at the other end of the hallway. Hunched over and still, he stares at the floor, metal body coldly glistening under the bright neon light.  
He stands with heavy limbs and gives you an unexpected hug. There is worry in his eyes.

„The doc's with him right now. Ana said he‘ll pull through“

„I _can‘t_ see him?“, you whisper and your voice sounds awfully loud and fragile, echoing through the hallways. It‘s shaking just like your hands.  
Both men stand there word- and clueless. 

You decided to spend your whole life with this infamous Soldier if you have anything to say in this. You were with him at his best and you sure as hell will be there at his worst.  
One deep breath later, you open the door under the protest of both young men.

The first thing you notice and hear are the machines. The constant, rhythmical beep, signaling the continuous beating of his heart. There are other machines, too, but you don‘t know them or their function.

The second thing you notice and see is his face. Bandaged, bruised and broken, his body is limp and for a simple, cruel second you can‘t see him breath, his chest under the blankets unmoving. Although the machines still ring through the room, your mind is too worried to make sense.

The third thing you notice and touch are his hands. The only body parts not bandaged or bruised, you take them as gently as you can. They are rough and dirty, callused fingers bending to your gentle touch.  
You kiss his palm and taste war on your lips.

He never talks about work. It‘s some sort of agreement you both made. There is war wrecking the world but not when both of you are together. Then there‘s no war, no deadly missions, no terrorist groups, no fighting. Just you and him and the happy life you both built together on shaking ground. 

_I keep job and private live separated._

Only now you truly realize how seriously he took those words.

After months of work, missions none of you dare to mention, he always comes back freshly shaved and nails cut clean. You remember the last time he came back after half a year of absence. Sporting his favorite ray ban sunglasses, his leather jacket, his torn jeans and the biggest smile. The war zone he was in seemed already left behind. Back then he smelled like caramel and pines, tasted like coffee and his skin was smooth and soft and unharmed.

„McCree, what is _she_ doing here?“ You would recognize the drawl of Moira O‘Deorain everywhere. Only met once, she still left a lasting impression. You had wished to never have to meet her again.

„I called her. Will you give us a few moments?“, Ana is there too, distinguishable accent and hard words making her lacking sympathy for the other doctor obvious.  
Studying Gabriel‘s face once again, you turn and watch the two women in front of you.

O‘Deorain is a lanky figure, lurking in the shadows the spare light and machines cast. The harsh light accentuates her gaunt face and her prominent cheekbones. Her eyes have a faint glow to it.  
Ana stands closer to you. Black hair shimmering in the cold light, her eyes are exhausted and there‘s sorrow dripping from the corners of her mouth.  
She regards O‘Deorain with another calculating look, adding a silver-tongued but cold-hearted „ _Please_.“

The tall medic huffs in disapproval, but leaves.  
Jesse and Genji stand in the door, awkwardly unsure about themselves. It‘s a private moment, an intimate one. Nothing can match your pain and fear and it is yours alone. It belongs to you and him.  
Still, they stay, closing the door quietly after O‘Deorain left.

„I hope I will not regret calling you“, Ana says and puts her hand comfortingly on your shoulder. You turn to Gabriel again, his features still, face bloody and broken.  
„No, no I won‘t I promise. I just-“ It‘s difficult to find words for the pure feeling of terror that holds your heart hostage.  
Then there are the tears and your voice cracks, your eyes get itchy and your throat seems too tight, breathing becomes difficult. You start sobbing, desperately clutching Gabriel‘s limb hand. 

You know he had been careful, because he said so and he always has been. Never knowing anything about his missions, you have not a single clue where he even was. Knowing that Jesse and Genji were with him is at least a minor comfort. It hurts to think they had to witness whatever happened.  
The more you study his face, the less you even want to know what happened.  
Who could have done this to him? Or what?

It takes you a long time to have enough composure to ask the important questions.  
The call from Ana already tucked back in the deep, dark corners of your mind, you ask again with a trembling voice.  
„What happened?“  
You try to rub away some of the dirt still on his hand but only smudge it as a result.

Ana remains silent and you look to the two young men instead, still standing at the door. Jesse has his hat in his hands, nervous fingers fiddling at the brim of it. Every once in a while he shifts and the spurs on his boots jingle in the faintest of tunes.  
Genji stands like a statue, red eyes focused on you and his Commander.  
Ana has to clear her throat before Jesse looks up from his feet and locks eyes with you. There‘s a sadness in them that resonates deeply with you.  
If you worry for your soulmate, Jesse worries for his father of choice.  
The current desperation makes it too easy to forget that you are not the only one who loves him.

„It was an ambush“, he croaks and you can see the pain in his face when he speaks the next words. „I was unprepared and he...“ There‘s a quiet, suppressed sob tumbling over his lips. Genji slightly moves, just the faintest tilt of his head. His hand brushes against Jesse‘s. Just a heartbeat later the cyborg is as distant as ever. In the most tragic moments, there‘s companionship where no one expects it.

„I wasn‘t prepared and he- he helped me“  
Another sob wrecks his body.  
You reach out for Jesse and he walks up to you without hesitation. Taking his shaking hand in yours, you try to smile at him. Maybe, you do not have to go through this alone.  
This pain and fear is yours but you see it in Jesse‘s eyes too, feel it heavily in Genji‘s silence and the turn of Ana‘s mouth.

You spend the rest of the night holding Gabriel‘s hand, listening to his low and shallow breathing, your heartbeat matching his.  
Ana leaves eventually, Genji too and even Jesse leaves after unsticking his hand with yours.  
There is no window in the room, only the cold neon light of a single lamp hanging above you and the weak shine the machines give off.  
The tears stop falling at last.

There is no morning light, no rising sun, but Ana returns and tells you with a heavy voice that you have to leave before the whole building awakes with busy productivity.  
The rude reminder that you are no part of this, that this is _his life_ and _only_ his. You‘re not supposed to be here, not even supposed to know he‘s working here and most of all, you shouldn‘t even know him the way you do. Everything about you and him, your relationship, your love, is forbidden - broken rules laying the foundation of your relationship.  
This is a cruel reminder.

The door opens again and Jesse walks in, dark circles under his eyes, restlessness in every bone, exhaustion radiating off of him.  
„McCree will drive you home. We will try and keep you informed. Please know that we do whatever we can. He will be alright“ Ana smiles and there are faint wrinkles around her gentle eyes. It is somehow reassuring. You know he is taken care of, that the best medics the world can offer, are helping him. It doesn‘t make your leave any easier.

Studying his face - dark bruises blooming around deep, angry cuts - you say goodbye by pressing your lips against his rough ones. You taste the dried blood on his lips.  
Squeezing his hand one last time, you stand and hope he will return to you as soon as possible. 

Ana gives you a hug before Jesse sneeks you out of the giant building. You see O‘Deorain lurking in the dark of an unlit hallway. Her eyes seem to follow you through the walls.  
You barely meet any other people.  
The drive home is a quiet one too.

When you get out of Jesse‘s car, he follows and brings you to your doorstep. Both of you stand there unsure. Both of you tired and exhausted.  
„I‘m so sorry“, he whispers and his arms are around you, before you can even answer.  
Instead of speaking, you rest your chin on his shoulder. He still smells the same, no time to shower - sorrow, sweat, gunpowder and misery clinging to his body like a blanket. 

„It is not your fault“, you reply. You know that whatever happened, Gabriel would not want Jesse to blame himself. Or Genji for that matter. His grave silence still rings in your ears and you would want to comfort him too, but he is a distant ghost, always slipping out of your grasp the moment you think you get a hold of him. You will wait for him to be ready to share his pain.

Jesse leaves you with the early rays of sunlight, purple and blue sky greeting a slowly rising sun. You stand in your living room and feel the cold creeping up your spine again. Gabriel‘s absence is now a cold one. The knowledge that he‘s laying in a hospital bed, unconscious and with a broken body, turns his absence into a burning, painful sensation.  
Still, you are thankful to have friends who care enough to inform you, even let you visit him.  
You are allowed none of all the things you did tonight.

*

Gabriel returns home five weeks after you visited him for the first and last time.  
He arrives with his sunglasses hiding his eyes on a day where the sun is hidden behind clouds. He wears his leather jacket and his torn jeans. The hood of his sweatshirt is pulled up, hiding a good portion of his face in shadows.

You are sitting in your favorite armchair, reading a book and drinking a cup of tea - everything really to just keep your mind occupied. You have read the same page for the past thirty minutes, reading and re-reading the same three sentences, your mind wandering off every so often. The longer Gabriel is gone, the deeper does the fear reach into your soul.  
When the keys turn and the door opens, you are up within seconds. Forgotten are book and tea, you sprint to the front door, woolen socks making it difficult to run on the smooth laminate floor without falling.

He‘s thinner than you remember him from the time before the mission. Sunglasses still covering his eyes, hood still covering his face, he holds both arms outstretched. You run into his embrace with a desperate sob.  
None of you talk while you both take each other in, clinging to each other. You dig your nails in his back, pressing him closer. You cry openly now, tears staining his hoodie. You feel him crying too, his whole body shaking with silent but big sobs.  
It‘s a small eternity, where you both just stay there in a tight embrace. His heartbeat matches yours, tumbling in your chests.

Once you both untangle from each other, you look up at him, face hidden. Carefully taking his sunglasses off and pulling his hood back, you swallow when you study his face. Like tears in fabric, the skin on his face is torn, deep gashes covering his beautiful face.  
Eyebrows knit together, you ever so careful reach out and stroke his cheek.  
A hint of discomfort crosses his face - wounds still unhealed, face still faintly bruised - but he closes his eyes soon after, leaning into your touch.

„I was so scared“, you whisper and his lids flutter open again, dark hazel gaze locking with yours.  
He withdraws from your touch but takes your hands in his. This time his hands are warm and your heart leaps in your chest at his touch. Even after all this time. 

Both of you settle on the couch in your living room. You snuggle up to him, bury your head in the bend of his neck and breathe him in.  
_He‘s with me, he‘s here, he‘s by my side and he is alright._  
He smells like caramel and pines and the faintest hint of antiseptic. 

Looking up, you see his eyes still glisten with unshed tears.  
„It‘s alright“, you say, „You‘re here, you‘re safe. It‘s going to be okay...“  
He smiles in a weak attempt of affirmation, but his eyes stay sad and tired.

Shifting, you take his face in your hands. His beard is longer than usually and you can feel the stubble under your hands. His sad eyes look at you and in a determined attempt to chase the sadness in his eyes away, you close the distance and kiss him with all the desperation and love trapped in your body since the midnight-call. He replies it with the same urgency, teeth clacking together while you giggle into the kiss. You feel his mouth twist into a smile.  
He tastes like coffee, no hint of copper and iron.

Once you separate, you open your eyes after a few moments of still satisfaction, lingering in the safety that he is right there, right here with you.  
You look at him and realize with a skipping heartbeat, that his beautiful face is covered in wounds that might heal but will never leave.  
The scars will stay forever and knowing he puts himself at risk like that every time he leaves is a frightening thought.

You look into his ruined face and overflow with love.  
He swallows heavily before he starts to speak in nothing more but a whisper.

„I was scared too“


	2. March 2051 [Part I]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been Insomnia writing and it is the corniest and most self-indulgent thing I have ever written in my life.

"Add eight eggs."

With proficient routine you crack the first three eggshells and add their content to the flower-patterned porcelain bowl. The already added ingredients are filling the bowl almost to the edge.  
Grabbing the fourth egg, you pause, nail slowly scratching over the chalky white surface of the shell.

"Eight eggs? I‘m pretty sure last time I made this cake... it was only four eggs..." 

"No, it reads eight eggs here."

"Really? I never put eight eggs in a cake... Let me see"

"No, no, no, no, no, it‘s totally eight eggs. Totally eight eggs!" You can hear the hidden grin in his voice, barely stiffled giggles bubbling in his chest.

Turning away from the kitchen counter, you try and catch Gabriel‘s gaze while keeping your face serious. He‘s seated at the kitchen island, hunched over the recipe and halfway hidden behind the small bouquet of pastel flowers decorating the dark table. He shields his face with one hand, knowing all to well that his wide smile would betray him. Not that his behaviour isn‘t obvious enough.

Trying to get a better look at him and the small paper, you stretch to see something - anything not covered by flowers or his hand. Gabriel shifts and turns the recipe just _so_ much in order to make it impossible for you to read from this angle and distance.

You set the utensils aside, put the egg you‘re holding back into the box and make your way over to him. You smooth out your apron, tucking at the ends as casually as you can. _Oh crêpe_ , it reads and _yes, oh crap! indeed_ , you are onto him.  
He glances at you, picks up the recipe and sprints into the living room with the song of his laughter filling the house.

"I promise, it‘s eight eggs!"

Fixing the bow on your apron as fast as you can, you run after him. You treasure moments like these more than anything else. It‘s the lightness and simplicity of a normal life that makes your body feel light, heavy thoughts chased away by his and your utter bliss and momentary silliness.

Gabriel stands behind your armchair, using it as some kind of shield while carefully eyeing you. Holding onto it with one hand, he holds the recipe with the other, wrinkling the single paper.

"It said eight eggs, cariño!", as if pleading for his life, he makes a face and gestures wildly with his free hand.  
His acting does not impress you. 

"I am _pretty_ sure it was eight eggs!", you reply again but immediately notice the slip up.  
His face lights up and with a triumphant laugh he roars: "Yes, exactly, I said it right! Eight eggs!" while you quickly shout: "No, I meant four, I meant eggs! Four!"  
He shakes with laughter and you take it as your opportunity to attack. 

Sprinting towards him, you try your best to reach him and catch him off guard.  
His SEP reflexes make your task impossible. Giving the armchair a nudge, he shoves it towards you while running behind the couch as next cover. Climbing over the armchair now standing in the middle of the room, you try and catch up by hopping over the small coffee table, knocking multiple magazines to the ground and throwing yourself on the couch in an attempt to get a hold of him.

He already moved out of the way, still laughing, a huge grin that lets his face shine while he stretches his arm out. You‘re halfway thrown over the couch, stretching and wiggling to reach the paper in his hand. He‘s taller than you and you both know that you have no way of getting the recipe any time soon.

Once you give up and collapse in giggles on the couch, surrounded by soft cushions and his laugh, Gabriel hops over the back and joins you, flopping on the seat right next to you.

"It‘s totally eight eggs...", he mumbles - a last hollow attempt at convincing you of his lie.  
You throw your legs in the air and let yourself fall into his lap, legs over the armrest, your head on his thighs. He lifts a hand and the single paper flutters through the air, landing on your chest.

You take a moment to admire his face, rays of sunshine letting his skin glow and his hair burn. He has the name of an angel for a reason. When you look into his eyes they are gentle and vulnerable and so full of affection and boundless love that you are at a loss of words. A smile stretching over your lips, you take one of his hands and squeeze.  
_How does someone like me deserve someone as wonderful as you?_

His thumb gently rubs over the back of your hand. There are stars on his fingertips and you feel light and energy pulsing though your skin, your veins.  
"How do I deserve someone as perfect as you?", he whispers.

You both smile at each other and it‘s the kind of smiles that are naked and open and the most vulnerable kind with your heart right on your tongue.

 _I love you_ , you think but even those words seem too loud for this moment. So you keep them behind your teeth, locked away until another moment will present itself with the opportunity to drown him in your vocal affection. For now you trace the veins on his hands with a single finger - the faintest touch - while you see the goosebumps on his forearms appear.

Gabriel just watches you, serene smile on his lips and a calm heart beating in his chest.  
Only once a car drives by and the sun gets swallowed by clouds; the moment simply passes. You slowly reach for the recipe on your chest, lift it and quickly scan the listed ingredients.

_1 cup buttermilk_  
_2 teaspoons vanilla extract_  
_½ cup vegetable oil_  
_4 cups all purpose flour_  
_2 teaspoons baking powder_  
_2 cups sugar_  
_½ cup brown sugar_  
_1 cup butter_  
_4 large eggs_

"Four!", you scream from the top of your lungs, throwing the paper, your arms, your legs and almost your whole body in the air and off the couch. Gabriel reacts quick enough, reaching out and grabbing you at the arms. Your fall to the floor is a smooth and slow one.

Although your wrists hurt a bit after he lets go, you giggle and give his shin a slight slap. Squeezed between the coffee table and the couch, your knees are tucked up to your chest.

"Why the heck would you say eight eggs?"

Gabriel snorts and lets the muscles on his arms and shoulders dance. Raising his hands, he replies as innocent as possible: "I think I misread the first ingredient... as _two_ cups?"

He begins traces an invisible pattern on your shoulder, avoiding your gaze.

„And you know how it goes...“ He slightly tilts his head to one side, carefully eyeing you while a smile still tucks at the corners of his lips. Raising an eyebrow in acted ignorance, you prompt an answer from him.

"It just totally snowballed from there... you know. And I‘m not doing anything by half-measures. So I just - committed."  
Yes, glancing at the entry to the kitchen, you know that his _commitment_ is sitting in your favourite porcelain bowl, far too much flour and sugar and oil and all the other stuff he told you to add and you so blindly followed. Why did you even think it would all fit in there? And how did you not listen up when he prompted to add eight cups of flour? Apparently your flour-tolerance is much higher than your egg-tolerance.

"And who is going to clean the kitchen after this mess...?", you murmur and can hear him shifting, leaning down to you and placing his lips right at your ear while his warm hand still lingers on your shoulder.

"And here I thought you liked it dirty...", he muses, his breath faintly caressing your skin and making you shiver while the .

"Not in _my_ kitchen!", you reply and turn towards him in an attempt to look shocked at the unexpected innuendo. As you move, you knock right into his face and both of you groan in pain. He lets himself fall back into the cushions of the couch while you bury your face in your hands and lean on your knees. Your nose is pulsating and for a second you‘re sure you got a nosebleed from that. Headbutting an enhanced soldier is not something you should be doing as a mere civilian.  
But as it turns out, your nose only hurts for that long and you soon enough peek through your fingers and see him staring at the ceiling while soft laughter drifts through the room. 

Carefully leaning back against his legs, head resting against his tights, you smile.

"Who is going to eat all that cake?" You question.

"It‘s your friends birthday party, isn‘t it? There will be a lot of people who are in demand of a lot of cake. And doesn‘t she have like... five kids or something? She can keep the leftovers. And if nobody wants the cake I will eat it all by myself."

You snort and make a face "She has two kids and... you are _probably_ right. I will hold you up to this if there are any leftovers."

He baths in your approval, claps his hands together and helps you stand.

"Let‘s go to work then, cariño!"

*

It turns out to be a lot of cake. Like, _a lot_. In the end you both agree on simply making two cakes, double the ingredients and it seems to be the simplest solution.

While flour sprinkles Gabriel‘s dark hair and the tip of his nose, a white hand print graces your butt. There are candy sprinkles all over the counter and floor but you can‘t get yourself to care. With his laughter and shining eyes, you marvel at his utter beauty, perfected by rays of sunshine filtering through the kitchen window and white dust in his locks.

There‘s a cheesy old song playing on the radio and Gabriel mumbles along, lyrics unknown but still he tries to match the rhythm, swaying from side to side and unintentionally wiggling with his hips. 

Throwing even more candy on the cake, he spins around in a fluid motion, raising his eyebrows in awkward flirtation while gesturing you closer. You grant him the wish, starting to sing the chorus of the song and dancing towards him. He opens the oven, placing both cakes next to each other and closing it with a good-aimed swing of his hips. He grins when his hands find their way towards your hips, tucking you closer to him, chest and hips bumping together while he mouths words he does not know, singing soundless. 

While the chorus gives way for a fast paced intermezzo, he dances with you through the kitchen, bad realization of a waltz while both of you stumble laughing around the kitchen island, through the door and into the living room, where your armchair is still somehow misplaced, magazines tiling the floor. 

"You are unbelievable!", you laugh and dig your nails into his upper arm when he swings you around in an attempt of a spin. 

"Unbelievable charming! I know!", he replies smoothly and winks. 

"Yes, that too!", you agree and lean into him while he holds you. 

Once the music ebbs off and another, much slower song begins to play, you both move closer to each other, while his hand on your hip wanders to your lower back, you move your hand from his biceps to his neck.  
Leaning against his chest, you can feel his heartbeat under your touch.

Both of you just stay like this for the entirety of the next three songs. Save in the arms of the other, slowly dancing and eventually, just standing still and being close.  
A sudden stillness comes over you, chasing the smile on your lips away.  
Moments like these are the greatest treasure, fragile and scarce.

Soon enough Overwatch will take him from you, deploying him to the other end of the world if your luck runs out. Then the house will be quiet again and the first few weeks will feel as if the time is standing still - everything is dead and unmoving and cold. The bed will stay empty.

"Why can‘t it always be like this?", you whisper and mean it. It‘s unfair that he's more gone than here. He‘s gone more than both of you want. But sadly, the love of your life made saving the world his job and saving it never stops.  
You are proud of what he accomplished, more than anybody else, but you also know with victories his responsibility grows even more. Heroes never rest.

Gabriel feels the tension in your body, heavy thoughts getting a hold of you. He knows you too well, knows what you are thinking and he knows that he can‘t change it. 

"It‘s like this _now_ ", he says and his hands come up to your chin, lifting your face to look at him.  
Gentle hazel eyes look at you with understanding before he closes the last space and kisses your forehead.  
He lingers there, his lips brushing over your skin, beard faintly tickling. 

"It‘s like this now and no one can take this away from us"

You feel the sadness taking hold and your eyes get itchy. Closing them in an attempt at keeping your emotions under control, you rest into his touch.  
_Yes, this moment is ours._


End file.
